


Used Gifts

by nightmarefever



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gender-neutral Reader, Other, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 08:46:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2615591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmarefever/pseuds/nightmarefever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're not having the best of days...but it could be worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Used Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

You took the job, initially, because there wasn’t much else to do. Not enough magazines to read. Not enough broken down old arcades to explore. Not enough stores at the mall to stand outside with empty pockets. Which was why nothing could be done. Empty pockets meant no money to have fun. It meant stranded in your house.

That was less than preferable. Everyone there was just…too grating. Familiar love did not go deep enough for them.

So working was the best option. And luckily, there was a rare opening in the small Oregon town. Falling conveniently when you needed it. But you weren’t about to be asking questions of convenient lives. After all, it did make itself rather apparent once you were taking up the job, a quiet cashier role at the famed Mystery Shack out in the woods. The other employees were less than savior kids. Teens more of, though one  _was_ , technically, an adult despite personality. But nonetheless, kids. Kids with good hearts but bad work ethics whether they meant to or not. (And there was the matter of a pair of actual kids running about the place causing trouble but that was another issue all-together…)

It was clear an adult needed to be there. To keep an eye on customers that couldn’t be seen from behind the latest gossip column. To keep everyone else in check.

Even if you were terrible at it. You just stayed within the range of the cash register. Only speaking up to answer questions and, eventually, to chat with your boss.

Your boss was a special case.

The (in)famous Stanford Pines was, both unfortunately and fortunately, in charge around the Shack. A rather mysterious figure when you’d first joined the crew, given how little was known of him throughout town that he allowed. All stories were contradictory. Dinosaurs, demons, old flings, long-lost family. Everything you could think of was floating about. It had been made approaching the job all the more terrifying.

But now?

Now you knew, after a few weeks manning the front desk. Stan was no more a wild secret than you were an active participant. After enough chats, you were noticing he was just another grumpy old man. One to waltz in, bitch about tourists, and then waltz out. All aimlessly. Everyone seemed to wander out aimlessly. It was good thing someone was always stuck on the front desk.

Because you weren’t interested in whatever adventures were going down outside. You vaguely considered truths to what you’d heard. Zombies, ghosts, gnomes, triangles. But, you figured, if it were real, there was no point thinking about it unless it affected you personally. And so far nothing had.

Until the bat ate your bike.

A giant creature that flew by while you were looking for your helmet. Snatching your only transportation like it was a brisk snack from your front yard. Running out, you’d watch it be carried off in massive jaws. All while you stood there in fear. Fear for your bike. Fear for your job starting soon.

It was immensely important you get to work. Despite losing your bike to a paranormal creature. You didn’t need to lose the only mildly exciting happening in your life.

But that bat was gone. He had taken a turn to nowhere land. And you were forced to walk the trip.

Honestly it wouldn’t have been so bad if you weren’t…so  _bad_. Stopping at store windows. Petting dogs. Checking your phone at a bus stop but not getting on said bus. You didn’t want to be crammed among the people you were paid to scam. Some sort of moral dilemma maybe. Or, perhaps, you just were annoyed immensely by them.

Either way, it was late by the time you arrived. Late enough even the bus of tourists was falling into a trickle out the doors. And nobody you knew was there. A given for the twins. Not so given for the other workers. You were about to start shouting names when you bumped into a well-dressed gent. Stan always threw you off guard. Though your guard was literally always down.

“There you are,” he grumbled, pocketing a pretty impressive cash wad. “There you are at…what time is it? Six? Four?” He looked at his watch. Tapping it and squinting like it was broken. What a surprise.

“…Eightish.”

“No. No the time is closing and you are just now arriving, kid.”

“Ah.” You glanced about the still bustling gift shop. The regular customers were coming in and out. Arms were filled with purses and plastic bags of useless merchandise. All of them looking like they weren’t planning on leaving any time soon. “…Where’s everyone else?”

“Where ever they always are.” Stan shrugged. “I’m not their babysitter. Or—I am. I babysit the twins. For the others? You are.” He pointed at you for emphasis. To which you noticed a wrapped cloth around his palm, faintly touched with crimson. It sent shivers up your spine. A part of you wanted to ask what it was about, but thought against it. This was, after all, still your boss. Even if he was less than formal.

It was your turn to shrug.

“…Is there anything I can do besides babysit? Uh. Mr. Pines.” A weak smile came to your face, trying to look pleasant. You dearly wanted to fall into a pattern of negative deadpan, already upset over your bat chow bike and now missing an entire day of work (which, given, you had left the house when it was already half way over). But falling into it now would only make matters worse for you. Stan wasn’t the most lenient of bosses, despite what Wendy had you believing.

Being an adult meant getting fired easily. But not today. Today, you were pointed towards the backroom. Given instructions to ‘clean until it’s spotless. Then maybe dirty it up and clean it again. I don’t really care.’

It was odd but who were you to complain? Especially since this had been occurring with a strange frequency since the little party stunt days ago. An event you yourself were still shaken over. You couldn’t imagine what it was like dealing with the aftermath of whatever went down personally. And you weren’t sure how close to the Pines you were to be asking questions. So everything stayed in the ark. And you stayed doing little work. Which was all fine with you. Going with the flow was, after all, your gig.

So you cleaned. Dirtied. Cleaned again. Repeated a few times before giving up and reading an old book sitting on a shelf, flipping through it boredly for what felt like hours. Eventually even the anger of your bike subsided. You were left with the empty feeling of a day spent bad. Not a bad feeling. Just not a good one. And it bothered you enough to make you groan. Tossing the book aside, you stood and examined your handiwork. The room looked…better.

It looked better.

You were satisfied.

The walk back lead you past dim hallways. Lights off and the door into the Shack locked up tight. Just your luck that you’d be forgotten in the backrooms. At least the house had multiple entrances. You’d just take the front door.

The door in question lead you around the house. Tripping every now and again on random toys and gizmos left behind from the twins and from things being quickly rushed from boxes to the gift shop. You continued catching yourself on the wall and sighing. It had been a long enough day. The stubbed toys didn’t bother you as much now.

You were, however, bothered by a glowing presence in the living room. The sound of classical music drifted closer as you walked in. Shoulders were tense. Body was really tense. After-hours at your place of work wasn’t advised. Though Stan didn’t seem too surprised to see you.

He was dressed the same, save for kicked off shoes (which you witnessed), fezless messy hair and an unbuttoned suit top (which you didn’t witness). Like he had probably  _just_  closed the Shack for the night. This really was not your day. Focused on the screen—some old movie channel you assumed—the old man just gave a brief wave at you. “Any reason you’re still here?”

“…I was cleaning. The backroom. Remember?”

There was a moment of hesitation. More of a moment of him looking around the sagging chair he was in for something. Once he found it—the tv remote—, Stan answered. “I thought I saw you leave.”

“This is the first time I’ve been out of there, sir,” you muttered. Stepping closer to  _get_  closer to the door on the other side of your boss. “Unless I have a doppleganger running around.” You were joking, of course. Even after the giant bat attack, you were sketchy at best on these things.

Stan, though, gave you a bit of a bitter look.

Best not to joke about the supernatural then.

“Anyways.” Stan changed the channel. Some infomercial popped up, catching his eye briefly. Which was rather strange. Seeing him so easily distracted. Usually the man was more focused, if not ahead of things. The go-getter in the store was slouching in his nice suit, as if something was festering in his mind.

Or maybe he just didn’t care much for what an employee had to say.

Either way, he was continuing. Looking at you more seriously. “It’s really dark out, you know that right? You gonna bike home at, what, eleven? In the dark? I repeat— _dark_. Night”

The concern was a bit grating. You weren’t exactly some defenseless kid—Eleven? Jesus it was late… “Well. I walked today but—”

“HA!”

You tried not to jump out of your shoes. The sudden laugh certainly startled.

Stan moved on from it, smiling as if you’d told a good joke. “No no no. I’ll drive you home after my show. You’re not walking out there. Have you ever been out this late here? That’s like writing ‘target’ right on your forehead.”

A part of you wanted to say, “Ha, what? Is something going to get me? Like a giant bat?” But wait…yes. A giant bat would get you. And then you’d become critter chow with your bike scraps.

Given the stories the twins (and Soos) were always telling you, Stan was no doubt in the know further than them. He had lived here ages before you had. Experienced a lot more than you had. Probably had to fight a bat bigger than the one you’d seen earlier.

You could trust him. Even if being fretted over bothered you. You needed to not be. Bothered that was. And just accept it as a nice gesture.

Nice gestures weren’t up your alleyway though. You came up to the chair, trying to get a good look at the dusty old television setup. Stan was still flicking through channels. Maybe to find the aforementioned show he was watching. Maybe to find a show to watch.

Leaning against the chair and recognizing you’d be here for a bit longer set in faster than you’d expected. What was a few more minutes on top of a day that shouldn’t be.

“I’ll pay you back later, if you do,” you said.

Stan gave another laugh. A few less startling one. “You’re dead broke, kid. You’ve got nothing I want.”

You’d have been offended if it weren’t so true. Your pockets somehow felt emptier at the statement. “There’s other ways to pay people, you know?”

The tv flicked for the last time. The title menu of some dramedy popped up, one you certainly didn’t recognize. Nothing you’d seen today had been familiar. You never watched TV here, anyways. So why should it be? “Oh?”

The way he spoke sounded…almost…suggestive. Maybe. You felt like you were reaching a bit there. Though what you were reaching for wasn’t known.

You just went with it. Whatever it was. A bit of humor never killed anyone.

Or lost them their job.

You gave a fairly fake grin at the old businessman. One he returned with a cocked eyebrow. You spoke with a more frank suggestive tone, almost seductive. Almost, because you weren’t quite sure  _how_  to sound seductive. “There are  _lots_  of ways, Mr. Pines.”

“Like?”

Your grin grew. You were trying not to break it. Stan encouraging whatever you were going on about hadn’t been expected. Less expected. You knew he wasn’t all old man grouchy and conman. But you just didn’t think you were allowed to see a lot of that. Employee-employer guidelines.

Those were definitely not being followed at the moment.

“Like,” you started, “kindness-”

“Uhuh.”

“…Cooking. Free labor. Gifts—” You noticed your fingers tapping on your leg, stilling them immediately. Trying to think of more payments was put on hold as Stan spoke up.

“Any specific gifts?”

The grin on his face was  _not_  fake. His teeth seemed to glow against the television light, not helped at all by the suit which…seemed more dashing the longer you stared— Where you staring? You jerked your eyes away from his body, straight to his face. Not even aware when you had let your sight drift.

A line of shivers raced up your bones. A hand was on your hip, large and firm.

“I asked you a question, kid.”

Stan had taken things from point A to point F so swiftly you could were still sputtering on the first thought of A. There was no hesitation to take things to that level. Hesitation wasn’t something you knew the man  _for._ At least he was consistent, if a bit too damn bold.

But you weren’t squirming away from his grip. In fact, you were kind’ve wanting to get closer to it. Which was equally as bold for you to even think. You weren’t sure if you were by any means attracted to the man of mystery. Sure he had…charm to his rude old ways. A charm that rubbed off on everyone he did. In a way.

More accurately, you just needed something to waste the time with. Whether that was watching this boring show blaring in the background or doing…whatever Stan was gesturing about. Either of these would take about the same time.

Turning more towards the man, you let the wide grin fall into a smaller smile. A more genuine expression. The hand on your hip followed.

“A free cashier?”

“I don’t think I have one of those.”

It was strangely funny. It made your smile grow. A tiny slit of an expression that stayed still as Stan seemed to think. It had a fake quality to it, staged even. And it was indeed staged. When he was done, he was patting his thigh.

“Well let’s see what we’ve got here.”

You hesitatingly followed the hand with only eyes. Not moving just yet. Because that’s what he was asking right? For you to…sit on his lap?

Oh no this was much more than  _sitting_. You knew that. Stan knew that. You both were fully aware where this was heading. And you were just gonna let it happen.

Stan’s hand moved from your hip as you obeyed. You sat down, at first going to straddle but not wanting to take things there. Yet. Your back was pressed into Stan’s chest, own chest feeling very heavy suddenly. This was all really heavy. Definitely breaking pretty fine line rules. But since when did rules and guidelines stop Stan Pines?

Hands returned to your hips, holding you in place. “Hard to really tell what you got me. Can’t really see anything.” You were rolling your eyes at the fake tone. Maybe one that could easily sway back in the day but falling unpracticed now. Though, perhaps, you had spoken too soon. The hands on hips came up to lift the bottom of your shirt, cold hands pressing against your bones and belly. “But I guess that’s why the wrapping’s there. To hide the surprise.” Warm breath on your neck sent tingles over your body. Strange tingles that weren’t exactly expecting.

So many things that you weren’t expecting kept happening. From sitting on your boss to his hands on your stomach to the  _lips on your neck_. That made your eyes widen and frame tighten. And it didn’t stop there, with a single touch. No, it flourished. More presses to your neck came, coating your skin in a pepper of kisses.

You tried not to gulp. It weirded you out, if you were honest. But you  _were_  still floundering on point A while Stan was past points at all. The kisses were evidence of that, from soft lips to the barest of teeth tips.

But it was a good weird. A weird you were growing out of as it continued.

One hand slid down your stomach, teasingly slow. So the cold was firm and scorching before moving on. Fingers tracing down the line of your zipper. All the way down, halting at the end before rolling right back up. It drew a slight shake from your breathing, eyes watching mesmerized by the motions.

There was too much experience being tossed at your body for you to even compare. Your hands were holding to the arms of the yellow chair and doing nothing else remotely useful. This was all on Stan to keep things moving. Maybe if you hadn’t sat so stupidly… But that was an old regret now.

The tracing was continuous. Still a slow crawl and fall, though the fingers were rougher with each action. Mouthing ‘wow’ was all you gave in the way of reactions. Body was starting to heat up, at the very least. Heat had been scorching your cheeks for a while now, only growing as your stomach’s did.

“And what do we have here?”

Oh  _man._ You gripped harder for no reason. Body still tense and only getting tensed as thumb slide zipper down.

You were more obvious than you thought. Given the hand still on your stomach departing, moving to place an actually comforting pat to your hand.

“Chill out, kid,” came Stan. “I’m not tryin’ to hurt you.”

“Yeah. Yeah…” You let your body relax at that. It let you sink back more into the man’s chest, letting go of the arms to just rest them there as calmly as possible. There was no need to be getting so paranoid. It was just the old guy from the Mystery Shack after all.

The old guy…slipping his fingers beneath jeans. Rather big fingers. Experienced fingers.  _Very_ experienced. Barely rubbing for a moment or two and you were already melting. The tension from beneath had definitely vanished. Or it was, escaping with each feel of stroking sensations. So good, so much of a rush you were tilting back, eyes closing peacefully. Not noticing your bottoms were being shimmed to the floor until you felt your belt pop your ankles.

“How thoughtful.” Stan’s voice was right on your ear. Low and like a strange melody in pattern with the wandering fingers. “You got me just what I wanted.” The little scenario playing out was helping everything feel so grand so fast.

“I know what you like,” you tried, attempting to play along. “…Sir.” Though it seemed just existing was all you needed to do to carry this situation. There wasn’t much in the way of words coming up, just a foggy mind.

Mind and voice closing up as the wandering became exploring, digging. Digging  _deep_  and very hard to grasp for a moment. Own fingers tugging at the chair again. Your body was tensing again.

But for the better, if the chuckle on your neck was any evidence. That and the kisses that fell back on your skin. Kisses and a finger giving short thrusts into you.

A hint of bitter blood touched your tongue from biting so fiercely on your lips. You had enough reason to think being quiet would be best. After all, who knew who was home? If everyone that had ran out for…something earlier was back yet. You weren’t about to be the lucky one to wake up upstairs sleepers.

Not that this seemed to be crossing Stan’s mind.

You heard a zip. Felt the leaving. Releasing your lip, hitching breathing tumbled out.

Heard a chuckle.

“What I’d really like would be to test out my new gift.”

Stan really was making this last, the stupid gift dialogue. You weren’t complaining, given how it made the heated pearls in your gut feel harder.

Stan shifted. Something both pressed against your lower back and slid down, the man lifting you as he leaned back.

“Permission granted,” you muttered, even if it seemed it was already heading in that direction. The only direction it really could go. Though it was a direction you wished had been better planned (as if, well, any of this was well planned). Worry was overwhelming about lack of wrapping paper, to stay relevant. But Stan had to know what he was doing. You were putting full trust this wasn’t going to end in some sort of a disaster.

Keeping quiet and not waking people had been the plan but your voice moved faster. Traveling out in a gasp as you were lowered upon a pressing muscle. One that slid easily all things given, filling completely and making your teeth clench.

A kiss touched the crook of your neck. Silence for once and no lame pun following. Just allowing you to feel the sensation and not be so thrown off. This wasn’t exactly something to just be forced.

You leaned back again as the awkward vibes left. A signal to the man. He took it as one, at least. The vibes were replaced with slow jerks upwards. Each slowly crawling to fill. Mouth overtook itself with moans and you could feel grunts on your neck.

Fingers kept clenching and unclenching the fabric of the armchair. Tugging at it as the motions continued in a swifter pattern. Your hips were rolling against them. You were meeting thrusts with a jerky inaccuracy but one nonetheless. Good enough given how alive you felt.

You were proud to be Stan’s gift. You were proud of that stupid bat for eating your bike. And you were proud of your glorious timing and stupidity earlier. This was a reward in itself. Lifting and falling against your boss’s legs.

Body was quivering already, on both ends. Though mainly yours. Your stomach was tightening, back arching against it all. Heat was pooling so fast you thought you were on fire – and it didn’t help that a hand came back down to slide and roll over folds not wrapped around a moving shaft.

Another gasp and your arm came around, grabbing onto Stan’s hair. You tugged absently, seeing a smile from the corner of your eyes. A good sign. You didn’t want to be yelled at for the action. Or lose your job.

You were still worried about losing your job. That was top priority even when your boss was literally  _in_ you. Though not for much longer.

You had a keen feeling.

The swift motions were not letting this drag out. The rubbing, the ramming, the kissing – A hand was tilting your head back just for that. Falling into yet another unexpected turn and yet another that was welcomed openly. Firm skilled lips tugging at yours, feeling just as pleasant here as they had on your neck.

It made the overflow even more intense. The leaving crashed over you suddenly, spilling out the heat unsparingly.

The no-doubt loud noise wishing to escape you halted on Stan’s mouth, only coming out once the kiss was over. Then just a soft groan. Another following as he suddenly pulled out but you had reason to prefer that.

Another grunt in your ear warned you of what had been so terrifying. Now it was just…gross. Stan climaxing on either the disgusting old chair of his or…ugh…the floor. The carpet had definitely seen better days. You hadn’t. And since you couldn’t see where it all had gone in the dark, you just tried to ignore the bad vibes.

Only good, chilling vibes were allowed, both of which washed over you. Breathing heavily, you heard the end credit music of the show on the television.

Perfect timing for once.

A hand slapped your hip, making you jump.

“Come on, kid,” Stan simply said, already done playing catchup with normalcy it seemed. You were still a bit in shock. What had just happened wasn’t exactly an evening end you had  _ever_  planned. Or even wanted. Or needed. Yet you had gotten it. “Gotta get you home, right?”

You licked your lips, leaning forwards to breathe again. It was coming back to you. You saw your jeans around your ankles and gave a sigh. “Right.”

You stood up slowly, pulling undergarments and buttons up with yourself. Your thighs were still quivering, that was fun to feel. You took a few experimental steps around. The sensation slowly came back, the meaning of walking not far behind. And that went double for Stan, already dressed up and looking ready to head out.

You could get whiplash from the swiftness of the situations.

But intead you got an arm around your shoulder. This weird buddy-buddy routine was throwing you off. But…given your relationship, you’d prefer it. You weren’t exactly looking for after-sex cuddles and hugs.

“I owe you one,” Stan mentioned, pulling you towards the door. Him being there helped keep you from falling over. And you had a feeling he was aware of it.

You simply nodded, not much in the moment any longer. “Just get me home and we’re even.”

“Sure you wouldn’t prefer something else?”

“I’m sure.”

“Well if you ever change your mind,” Stan chuckled, opening the front door. The hot air of the summer hit like a fresh breeze. And it wasn’t the only thing that hit.

You jolted as a hand gave your butt a firm squeeze. The man of mystery coming into view as he did. Whispering, “you know my number.”

You gulped.

This was not going to be buddy-buddy.

And that could…actually be fine. 


End file.
